The Side of the Angels
by urcool91
Summary: Sherlock opened and closed his mouth a few times. "Are you an angel?" he blurted out. "I suppose that's one way of putting it," John said, laughing slightly. Rated for language and violence. No slash, but slash goggles may be worn.
1. Chapter 1

The pain lodged in Sherlock's chest was overwhelming. He sunk to the ground, jostling his cracked ribs, but all the pain, the bullet and the beating, was irrelevant in the terrible glory in front of him.

His hand reached out to touch the glossy white feathers. John had dropped to his knees beside Sherlock, folding his wings into a canopy, a shield to hide and protect his best friend. Sherlock could only gape.

"John," he gasped out at last.

"Don't move, Sherlock. Despite the now un-hidden wings, John had the same, grounding voice. "I have to stop the bleeding, or at least slow it down, and you moving won't help with that." Sherlock opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"Are you an angel?" he blurted out.

"I suppose that's one way of putting it," John said, laughing slightly. Then he stiffened. Sherlock could hear, at first distant, then closer, the sound of a helicopter. John straightened, standing over Sherlock like a heavenly centennial as he gazed into the dark sky. A searchlight swept across the alley in front of them and John shuddered, unconsciously pulling his wings inward, towards his body.

"John?" said Sherlock. His voice sounded small in his ears. John let out a shaky breath as the light moved closer.

"Sherlock, you're going to have to trust me. Don't worry. I will get us through this." The beam caught them in its glare. John squinted and tried to shield his eyes. "I will get us through this." John raised his hands in surrender to faceless men. "I will get you through this." John fell limply onto the pavement, a dart sticking out of his left shoulder. Sherlock screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

"What have you done with him?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his brother's first words since regaining consciousness.

"Done with whom, brother?" he said.

"Don't play dumb," Sherlock snarled. "If you don't show me where John is, I'll find him myself."

"Don't be an idiot," said Mycroft coolly. "John Watson is a threat to national security. Who knows if there are others like him and what they could do if we don't guard against them."

"I'll have you remember, Mycroft, that John when into a _war_. I doubt that he'd prove a threat to your precious country now."

"Regardless, he is not a natural being. My employees will get as much information as they can out of him, willingly or not, before he is terminated." Sherlock sat up quickly, too quickly, and his vision began to tunnel, but he didn't care. He was too enraged.

"You're going to _torture and kill him?"_

"Interrogate and terminate, Sherlock, at least use the correct terms."

"Murder is murder, Mycroft. Mummy wouldn't like it. John is a good person and _my best friend_. After all your meddling, trying to get me to be less of a freakish outcast, you'll throw away the best thing to ever happen to me-"

"I will not have my brother living with a supernatural force I'm not sure that I can control!" Mycroft's face was twisted in annoyance and exasperation. "Come and see for yourself if you don't believe that he's a threat." Sherlock was helped into a wheelchair and led by Mycroft down a long hallway to a small room on the end. Through a large one-way glass he could see John, trapped like a beetle on a card.

John was naked except for his pants and chained to the wall. His huged wings had been unfurled to their full extreme. Large nails held them, pinning them to the wall. The red that stained John's white feathers left no doubt that he was in pain and probably wouldn't be able to fly for weeks. Sherlock refused to think about how John wouldn't have weeks if his brother had anything to say about it. The detective would make sure that that wouldn't happen.

"Why the hell would you do this?" he said.

"Language, Sherlock," said Mycroft. "And you know why this is necessary."

"Why you _think _its necessary," Sherlock muttered.

"And I'm never wrong," said Mycroft as a man in a lab coat jabbed John with a cattle prod and the angel screamed.


End file.
